


My Halcyon Days

by deuil



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:04:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deuil/pseuds/deuil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The three years towards the culmination of their relationship. Takao/Midorima.<br/>青春って良いよね...末永く爆発しろ</p><p>I might write the Midorima POV of this later, until/unless canon debunks all of this and sets me up for humiliation (inevitable).</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Halcyon Days

Takao Kazunari, age 16. At the beginning of his first year at Shuutoku High, on the day he walked onto the polished floor of the well-maintained gymnasium and felt his heart sink and his soul shake, he'd made a promise to himself.

"The three rules that Takao Kazunari will abide by, always, in order to be a Really Cool Guy:

One, when telling jokes, say them with a straight face.  
Two, when saying something important, say it with a smile.  
Three, when doing either, be serious."

He'd let this policy slip, once, with his head against his desk and the sun filtering through open windows, cool autumn air prompting long bangs to flutter against his lashes. By then, he'd known Midorima Shintarou for almost half a year; the stone-faced shooting guard with his impenetrable routines and his unshakable effort. Like leftover heat from the summer, Takao couldn't say that he didn't feel it still, those last tremors of bitterness that ate at his heart like a residual illness— but the prominence was fading, and when asked why Takao was always laughing despite Midorima's continued abuse (at least Midorima recognized it as such), that was what Takao had responded with.

"Because, Shin-chan", he'd said, eyes half-lidded. "People are supposed to smile when they're saying or hearing something important."

Takao still remembers Midorima's bemusement, the moment when Midorima'd looked at Takao with something beyond dismissal: the first time Takao felt as if Midorima was making a conscious effort to understand him. A wavering of green eyes behind cleanly-polished lenses. _The_ Midorima Shintarou. The lone beast from Teikou Junior High. The solitary ace.

 _I wanted to make you recognize me_. 

Seeing Midorima's scrutiny, seeing that fleeting effort, was the precise moment Takao felt his heart sink again, behind curved lips and slightly-narrowed gaze. It was the feeling of watching helplessly as the boy in front of him got into position, bent his knees and curved his arms in that beautiful, cruel arc to land a perfect buzzer beater. It was the realization of defeat.

"I can't believe you expect anyone to take you seriously with that sort of attitude."

Cold words, punctuated by a slight adjustment of the rims of his glasses as Midorima got up to go to practice. Takao can still recall it perfectly, because his world was spinning and all he could think was _shit, shit, shit, shit, this wasn't supposed to happen_ , and he'd wondered if he should tell a joke (default back to a poker face, and _then_ laugh his ass off, that was always the best way), say _something_ before Midorima'd shut him down again, _again_ , with the most deafening death sentence of all:

"Come on, Takao."

Come on, Takao.

Takao.

Since when had it become so natural to hear his name in Midorima's voice?

"—Coming, Shin-chan."

He knows that he hadn't been able to smile then, his breath caught somewhere between his throat and his heart, his lungs constricting in his chest too tightly to be able to follow rule two of his loosely-kept promise. He had followed those broad shoulders to the locker room, felt his palms slick with perspiration when Midorima berated him during drills for being anywhere but in the present, and had been privately relieved when he lost his 107th game of rock-paper-scissors so that he could justify his racing heartbeat as a product of his tireless efforts in chauffeuring the other boy home.

When Takao'd parked his bike a few feet from the now-familiar Midorima residence, Midorima had turned to look at him, inscrutable in his placidness, deceptive in his aloofness.

"Tomorrow, then," was what Midorima'd murmured over the faint noise of families watching television, as regal as ever as he deposited himself from the back of the rickshaw, headed for home without a second glance backwards.

Takao'd wanted to deck himself in the face for wanting to sprint forward and tug Midorima backwards, for wanting to press his lips against Midorima's, for wanting to grab the fabric of Midorima's uniform and get him in a vicegrip and keep him, for wanting to scream into his face, scream _you ruined me, all I wanted was for you to look at me, and suddenly now you're everything, you've become everything_.

Instead, he'd laughed and said "right-o, our most venerable ace". Rule number one, broken.

 

September of his first year in Shuutoku High, Takao Kazunari had irrevocably, irreparably, fallen in love.

 

***

 

Takao'd lost count of how many times he'd broken his rules by the time he'd gotten to March of his first year in Shuutoku, but the number was well over a hundred and climbing, and by the time the graduation ceremony rolled around, he could barely remember what the first two were anymore. He'd laughed too much, loudly and without reservation, and he'd loved too much about his team to attempt not to laugh at all the stupid jokes that he'd wanted to tell. His heart had always been too full, and despite all the hours he'd spent rehearsing his cool guy speech to his seniors on the day before graduation, he'd cried and cried and cried as he played his final one-on-one matches with Otsubo, then Kimura, and finally, Miyaji.

"Why the hell are you crying more than us?! We're the ones that're graduating! Hey, Kimura, did you come here in your minivan? You think this fucking idiot will stop crying if I run him over?!"

"Miyaji-san...thank you, really, for everything... and thank you for being cruel until the very end...!"

"Scratch that, where the hell is the coach bus that brought all our parents here, I'm gonna use that instead."

There'd been nothing about the past year that hadn't been important, not a single moment that Takao would ever want to forget (but inevitably would, the sad truth of time). And he knew, even with his blurred vision and his difficulty breathing, that Miyaji was also crying through his yelling, that Midorima, standing a few yards away with his own basketball and his own thoughts, would turn and wipe his face on his sleeve once this was all over.

 _Shin-chan_ , Takao'd wanted to say, as Otsubo grabbed him and ruffled his hair, as Kimura slapped his back and took the wind from his chest, made their parting final and real with their gentleness. _Shin-chan, a year is such a short amount of time, isn't it?_

Two more years.

That was the amount of time that Takao had left to play basketball with Midorima Shintarou. Midorima Shintarou, who had once been the one to beat, then the one to chase, then the one Takao wanted to stand next to. Always. Not just for two years. For longer, even if they didn't have basketball as their common denominator anymore, even if Shuutoku High school wasn't what was keeping them together.

March of their first year, and Takao Kazunari's feelings were still a secret.

 

***

 

"Me?! Captain?! Hey, hey, hey, shouldn't the team ace be the Captain?! What about Shin-chan?!"

"You're far better at communicating with the other club members than I am. Suitability-wise, you're more qualified for the role. That's all."

"Shin-chan... hey, you alright? Your dere levels are at 90% today, I'm worried about you..."

"...If you'd rather be a dead man than a captain, I can oblige."

"Whoa, jeez, I'm just kidding. Rule number one: joke with a straight face. Remember?"

Takao can recall this moment in acute precision, every second of it, can remember every inflection in Midorima's tone, every light exhale, every blink of Midorima's eyes.

"...Don't make rules if you won't abide by them, you idiot."

Takao knows that he'll remember the way Midorima'd laughed until the day he dies, that the last lingering thoughts of his life would be spent thinking about the way Midorima's brows furrowed even when he smiled, how Midorima Shintarou was terrible at being austere when it came down to it, how much he had loved the way Midorima looked at him in his second year at Shuutoku, even if the boy was no longer that solitary, beautiful champion that had trusted himself and no one else. 

Takao Kazunari became captain of the basketball team by the end of his second year; he'd wished time would stop.

 

***

 

"They say that scientifically, people only stay in love for three years, tops. Everything's downhill from there."

He'd managed to say, with a straight face, on his first day of his last year at Shuutoku.

"Baseless," had been the response, barely acknowledged, as Midorima flipped through the pages of his biology textbook.

At the very least, Takao'd managed to land that joke without cracking a smile. Three years at Shuutoku, and Takao'd given up on giving up.

 

***

 

Takao'd felt his heart shatter when Midorima told him about quitting basketball to go to med school.

"I'm thankful," Midorima'd said in the back of their now nearly-broken rickshaw. "It hasn't been terrible, playing with you."

And there it'd been again, Midorima taking everything from him and rendering it into pieces, breaking and rebuilding boundaries that Takao'd tried to make. They could have been friends in some other life— best friends, even, without putting a name to the bittersweetness that permeated every inch of their conversations, without assigning a definition to the awkwardness that they pretended not to see.

 _Shin-chan_ , Takao'd wanted to say. _Shin-chan, I remember every pass I've given you._

_I remember every three-pointer that you've made, from the one that broke me to the one that we practiced together to beat Akashi, to the one you made in your last one-on-one when Miyaji-san was still a Shuutoku student, to the one you made on the first day that I became captain, to the one on the day I tried to make you realize that I love you, to the one you made today, before you told me that you're quitting._

_Shin-chan._

_Midorima._

"It's been a great three years, huh."

This time, he'd managed to laugh as he'd said so: a personal victory for fulfilling rules two and three at the same time. 

 

***

 

And now it's graduation day, and Takao looks for Midorima in the sea of bowed heads, looks for the crop of green hair that stands a foot above everyone else. His mother and father and sister are abandoned somewhere on school grounds with a promise that he'll come back with his friend for a photo in front of Shuutoku's gates, but his diploma and his photo op are far from his mind as Takao swims through the crowd, pushes by a mass of girls and boys exchanging contact information and college names.

Today is the last day of the formative years of his life, and he needs Midorima Shintarou here with him.

Strangely, it doesn't devastate him that this is the end: his juniors have all left him tearful farewells and a promise to win the Winter Cup next year on Takao and Midorima's behalf. They've grown up, Takao thinks, those sniveling first years with their whimpered complaints. There's not a single thing he would change about any of them. His only regret is that he can't stay with them for longer, but he believes in them, like Miyaji and Otsubo and Kimura did when they left, when they entrusted the future to those who have so little time but so much ambition. Those are the things that Takao realized only when he came to be on the receiving end of them.

Takao turns the corner, runs towards the gymnasium and the water fountains, and finally spots Midorima Shintarou throwing free-throws from the open door.

Three points.

Six points.

Nine points.

Not a thing about those three-pointers have changed. Midorima Shintarou is still the Midorima Shintarou that Takao loves, with his perfect form and his neverending pursuit towards effort, and Takao's chest feels too full, his heart too swollen.

"—Shin-chan!"

His vision blurs, doubles, and he can feel his throat tighten again, like the first time Midorima got him down on his knees in defeat, like the first time he looked at Midorima and wanted to kiss him, like the first time he realized that three years go by so quickly, so mercilessly. Furiously, he tries to remember rule number two and how he's supposed to deliver this with all the suaveness that situations like these require, but he can feel himself crumbling under the weight of his emotions, with how much love he has for this awkward teenager who loved this team in turn, who loved this school possibly even more than Takao did. 

"Shin-chan!", he finally yells, over the noise of so many other students with their own sets of memories to nurse, his voice nestled between all the other confessions that everyone else is sure to be making. His breath hitches, and his exhaling is a hoarse whistle that prompts Midorima to stop halfway in shooting motion, eyes opened wide, moisture glazing a usually piercing gaze.

"Thank you!", Takao bellows, laughing between his sobbing and grinning fiercely under his rolling tears, and he thinks he finally understands why it's so crucial to smile when saying something important, because it hurts and it hurts and it hurts, and he wouldn't trade this pain for anything in the world. 

"Thank you for giving me these three years! Thank you for playing basketball with me, you damn tsundere!"

And it's when he sees the wetness on Midorima's cheeks that he kicks forward to span the distance between them, shoes almost coming loose with the intensity of his movement, as he runs towards Midorima to pry the basketball from his partner's white-knuckled hands.

"Thank you for being our ace!"

He grips Midorima's graduation uniform with shaking hands, and nearly hiccups when he feels Midorima doing the same, when he feels the weight of Midorima's crying against his shoulder and hears the familiar baritone barely managing an unsteady _Takao_. 

"Thank you, Midorima Shintarou!"

Goodbye, Shuutoku High. Goodbye, Inter-High tournaments. Goodbye, Winter Cup. These are things that Takao and Midorima will never get back, will never have again, and Takao knows that it's alright to mourn their loss. Midorima is going to med school, and Takao is going to some nondescript university, and maybe they'll both play basketball when they have time, but who knows. This was their beginning, and this is where a chapter of their life ends. Irrevocably. Irreparably, like another facet of Takao that has never, will never change.

"Shin-chan," Takao says, as he feels Midorima pull back, pull himself upright again in that infuriatingly beautiful posture, his eyes red and his cheeks flushed but always poised— the Midorima Shintarou that Takao hated at first. 

Takao knows that he's never been so sure about smiling as he is now, here, caught in a limbo and taking his first wavering step into the future.

 

( _Remember_ , he says to himself. _Rule number two: when saying something important, say it with a smile._

 _Three, when doing either, be serious._ )

 

He takes a deep breath, grins wide, and yells.

 

"I love you!"


End file.
